June: Poetry is not competitive!

Hack your haiku (just kidding)

This photo now feels like a visual haiku to me.

Tensies is a ~monthly project in which we do 10 things in 10 days. And then we do it again. So, actually, it’s a project about projects, an exploration of the impact of creative constraints. But it all stems from my belief that we can manipulate our reality just enough to seek, find, or make our own meaning.

June’s theme: poetry
My Tensie: 10 haikus in 10 days.

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Once I committed to writing 10 haikus in 10 days for my first Tensie, I brought home a book from the library by the writing teacher Natalie Goldberg (Three Little Lines). I tend to do this when I’m trying to do something new. I read about it instead.

“I can handle it,” I told myself. “It’s just one little book. I won’t go down the rabbit hole.”

But as soon as I cracked it open, I read that Allen Ginsberg taught Natalie Goldberg that the 5-7-5 syllable rule, the one and only thing I thought I knew about haikus, is not right. While that rule might structure the traditional Japanese haiku, that structure doesn’t hold up when you translate them to English.

And with my fundamental knowledge now smashed to smithereens, I immediately thought, “Uh oh, I don’t know shit about this.” And instantly, on day one, I feel like an imposter and a fool, ill prepared and ill equipped to write a single haiku.

And this, my friends, is why I started Tensies. I have enough self awareness to see what I’m doing. I’m allowing my curiosity about how others see and do things to stop me before I even begin. Then, I think that other people know how to do things I don’t know, and everyone will see how dumb I am that I don’t. These are not conscious thoughts, they are quiet, automatic, and rooted in fear.

Of course, learning about or trying something new unveils how little I know about it or how unpracticed I am. Because that’s the definition of new things. But it doesn’t make sense to let that stop me. I deserve to practice and explore things, even when they’re new.

And here’s the thing: I loved writing 10 haikus in 10 days. Even though I don’t know a lot. Even though I’m not that good. Even though none of that matters.

I happened to be on vacation during these 10 days, visiting a friend in Spain. And haikus are a super portable activity! I decided I liked the 5-7-5 syllable apprach. So that’s the format I used. Some days I sat in bed at the end of the day and closed my eyes and searched for images from the last 15 hours that I wanted to remember, details that delighted me or contrasted with my typical days.

petrol and coffee 
on the side of the highway
we can stretch our legs

Some days, I thought about words to reflect the moment while I was in it. Remember the “romanticize your life” trend on socials? This approach definitely got me into this headspace. It didn’t hurt that I was breathing in new experiences and traveling through glorious landscapes. But I think it would also bring this perspective to my daily routine in an even more obvious way.

sonic cowbells 
on ancient pilgrim pathways 
peace to remember

One morning, over coffee, my friend suggested we write found haikus. She plucked the book from Lowell’s hands (Arctic Dreams by Barry Lopez) and chose three pages at random. We each took turns scanning the same 3 pages for our first line, second, and final line. We playfully teased each other as we each sat on the couch noodling in our respective notebooks. “You can’t tell her how to do poetry!” “Use your gut!” “Poetry is not competitive!”

Here are three we came up with:

Whitney:

centuries aspired 
the island must be longer 
we’re soon forgotten

Nina:

butchering a narwhal 
smaller than a human being 
two days after meeting

Lowell:

a different city 
a friend working on summer
pertinent sagas

I did not write the world’s best haiku (and to even think I should is another subconscious thought I have to laugh at). But I discovered what the process or writing and editing a haiku looked like to me. For instance, I loved finishing a haiku in one go. And then I loved letting it simmer in my subconscious and editing over the subsequent days. I loved reading the haikus to myself, noticing the words that felt precious and those that felt ordinary. And now I know how peaceful it feels to carve out moments in the day to tumble words around my head, arriving at 17 syllables that bring me joy.

a mosquito flies 
across around the bedroom
slap! ouch! was that it?

I was also able to notice patterns and reflect on them. I saw myself trying to cram in entire settings, characters, and action into 3 little lines. What often felt left out was the meaning or universal reflection that might make the haiku more relatable to others. I realized how 3 little lines and 17 syllables is not enough to include all of the things I want to remember in my frozen little moment. But now I know what I want to work on.

shepherds in the mist 
lentils and stew before bed 
walking with old friends

Best of all, I have 10 haikus that will forever remind me of smells, hills, hikes, scents, and friends from my travels. I’d love to incorporate haikus regularly into my journal. I have, at times, written down 3 memorable moments at the end of a day, but turning them into a haiku adds an element of peaceful creation at the end of a day. It ends the day with poetry.

I ask the waiter 
the things everyone knows
a humble practice

THIS is the whole point of Tensies. To see the reasons not to, and to do it anyway. And then do it again. To delight in the process. To make it manageable. To reflect on how I show up. And to learn what makes something fun for me. To iterate. To learn what I’d like to learn next.

Tensies is a way to lower the stakes. Tensies is a sandbox. It’s just a way to play. To practice. And to reflect.

If you want to play along, I’d be delighted. Subscribe to get notified about what theme comes next. July’s theme is gonna be SUMMERY.